


day by day

by DxTURA



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: One Shot Collection, based around season 1 - episodes 5 & 6, gun mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25110208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DxTURA/pseuds/DxTURA
Summary: When one door closes, another one opens. Not everyone's life is the same on a daily basis...Fiverr request from February! What would happen if certain events in vis-a-vis were simply altered!
Collections: Urbinazation Works





	1. "you're right"

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, thanks for reading!!!
> 
> This fic was requested by a buyer on Fiverr. Should they no longer want it up on AO3, they can request me to remove it at any time!  
> I hope you enjoy!

Two, no—three cups of coffee sat before Leopoldo. One was completely empty – almost licked clean, even. Another was at half, and the other getting there. Several documents were strewn across the table, and every so often he would pick one up and sift through with a lone finger before setting it back down. Macarena’s file. Articles on the Egyptian. On Simon, too.

Dark circles hugged his eyes. How long had he slept recently? An hour? Thirty minutes? Incarna and Roman knew nothing other than the fact that his insomnia kept him up on a day to day basis.

He picked up the middle coffee cup and took a sip. Cold and gross, but that was the least of his concerns right now. There was a lot on his mind, and his hands rubbing both of his temples were indicative of that.

“Roman. Incarna.” All he needed was a cigarette to complete this tense-filled image. “You’re right.”

They looked at each other, then darted their eyes back to him.

“I mean it. You’re right.”

“Err, about what Dad?” Roman wasn’t sure what to say.

“About the Egyptian. About chasing him… I’m calling it off.” He picked up Hanbal’s file and waved it in the air. “We’ll only get ourselves killed, and Incarna’s right: it’ll be the end of us all if I even try.”

“I’ve already called back my old friend and told him to cancel tracking the camper. For all we know, The Egyptian could have abandoned the car sometime back and left in another. I’m not the police. Castillo doesn’t know.”

“Then, what do we do?” Roman shuffled in his seat. “We don’t have the money. Not even a little.”

Incarna snapped her head back, “Sure we do! We have the—”

“No, ma, we don’t. It’s… it’s gone.”

“…Excuse me?”

Leopoldo added on. “The Egyptian came into the house and stole the money. We don’t know when or how, we just saw that it wasn’t in the box anymore.”

“What do you MEAN?! How is that possible?! The Egyptian doesn’t even know where we live.”

“Oh, but he does. He’s sneaky like that.”

Incarna’s face turned red, “You waited until now to tell me all this?! If I had more time, I could’ve gotten more money from my neighbors. Our people—!”

“Mama, even if that was the case, we’d just lose it again.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Incarna, the Egyptian had his Glock and tried to shoot at you through the pillow while you were asleep there was no way we would’ve stood a chance against them!”

The argument – which was turbulent, heated, and overwhelmed with hysteria – now came to an abrupt silence. Shot? Her? While she was asleep? That couldn’t be… that couldn’t be true at all. She placed a hand over her mouth and blinked back the tears.

Leopoldo finally broke to clear the silence. “...We need to testify. We will do what we can, and that’s all we can do.”

“Does Castillo know about everything?”

“Only some. We didn’t tell him about the bullet hole yet.”

Incarna clutched her heart.

“This is why Incarna testifies. A woman’s words aren’t useless; they might be stepped on at times, but they are not weak by any means.”

Leopoldo took another sip, “Look, from what I have and from what we’ve seen there is a lot we can go on. We know for a fact that the Egyptian has been looking for the 9 million, but I can say – without hesitation – that none of us know where it is, correct?”

“Right. They think we do know, but we don’t.” Roman sighed, “Which, honestly, trying to prove that is troublesome to begin with. Castillo is going to intrude and ask about it again at some point.”

“That much is true, but we’re forgetting one major key to this entire investigation.” Silence. “Guys. Maca.”

“Maca?” They both said it in unison.

“Fabio and Castillo mentioned going to the forest with Macarena to try and dig up the money. They not only couldn’t find it, but got attacked in the process, too.” A wry smile appeared on his face, “But here’s the thing: because they were attacked and because they couldn’t find it, we can safely tell the court that we have nothing to do with it. We just need to hear her side of the story to make that case.”

“That’s all well and good, dad, but then how do we deal with the Egyptian? It’s not like he’s going to willingly come with us to court.”

“You’re right, but we don’t need the Egyptian to be there entirely. Just the information we have in our hands is enough.”

“Leo, you really believe I could convince the court that she’s innocent?”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” He looked toward his wife, “There is just one sliver of evidence I would like to get, but we might have to proceed on without it?”

“What’s that?”

“A DNA test from Simon.”

Oh. Oh dear. None of them were sure how to work with that.

“Oh, Leo...”

“I know, I know. It is a long shot, and almost impossible. I don’t have his phone number, so I would have to hunt for it. On top of that, I doubt he would want to talk to any of us. Busy and important after all.”

“Leo that’s not the only big issue we have around that idea. We would have to get Maca’s permission, and give her a deadline to do it.”

“And,” Roman bit his lip, “Judging by what she told us at visitation, she doesn’t want to worry about whether or not Simon is the father anymore. Mom even told me that we’re losing her when the two of you came back.”

“There’s no harm in trying, you two, and you know this. If Simon had the balls to jail Macarena for his sickening schemes, then we can fight back on our own terms.”

Incarna’s voice cracked, “I just… Well… You’re right, but...”

“We need to believe in her, and believe in ourselves.” Leopoldo stood up from the sofa, “It’s a lot to take in all at once, but if we don’t try then what do we do? Leave Maca in the jail for the seven years she was sentenced?”

“No. I’ll help.” Roman took a deep breath. “You’re right. If we don’t do anything about it, we’re not going to get anywhere. That asshole is just going to continue with the belief that Macarena conned him. We can’t let that happen.”

“I knew I could count on you all.” Leopoldo picked up all three cups and tucked them between his arms. Might as well clean up now that the announcement is over. “Roman, contact Castillo and see if he will tell you anything about Simon and is company.” His eyes turned to his wife’s own. “Incarna, think about what you would like to say and write it down. We can go over it later, but we need a blueprint of sorts.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, Dad. Promise me one thing, though?”

“Hm?”

“Would you please for the love of God go to sleep? How long did you sleep last night? You look like you’re about to faint if you don’t get to a bed as soon as possible.”

It was that comment alone that made Incarna burst out into laughter. How long has it been since she had laughed? Leopoldo wasn’t even sure. He was so engrossed into the investigation that he never gave himself any time to think about something else.

“I’m serious, you look like a spirit has possessed your body or something.” Roman smiled, “We can take care of everything from here, Dad. Just go to bed. Take a nap, even. I doubt you’ve slept more than a couple of minutes when we’re not here.”

“I… yes, you’re right. I suppose I can take a break for once.” Incarna took the cups out of his arms, while Roman pressed a gentle hand on his shoulder to woo him onto the couch. “I’ll be useless to you all if I don’t take care of myself, won’t I?”

“Yes.” There they go in accordance again.

When everyone finally dispersed, Leopoldo took the advice and curled himself up underneath the décor blanket on the sofa. It wasn’t his bed, but – for the moment – it was as comfy as he needed it to be. For once he felt like a huge weight was taken off of his chest. He really needed to learn how to rely on those closest to him more; being the man of the household, he just felt like letting anyone else handle it might put them in danger or get them hurt.

But, in a situation like this, they’re all hurting. They’ve all been in pain ever since Macarena was arrested, and his initial idea of everyone grieving on their own wasn’t beneficial to them all in the slightest. At least he realized it before he was too late.

Leopoldo’s eyes fluttered closed. His breathing slowed, his stark expression softened into a small smile, and he clutched onto the blanket like a child. Nothing was entirely peaceful, but this was probably as peaceful as it could get for him for the time being.

Only when he woke up again would he worry about Macarena, the case, and his family. He could deal with the lack of thoughts for a couple of hours, right? Sure he could.

Macarena would have wanted him to do that, too. She was always grateful for their actions, but she would hate to see Leo any worse than he was already becoming.


	2. “lucas is part of the problem”

Sometimes, the challenges that Macarena faced in the prison weren’t due to the officers or the inmates.

Sometimes, it was the baby himself!

Lucas (she decided this name herself) was, without question, a very needy boy with a voracious appetite. Just about anything she ate went right to him and caused her to be hungry yet again. Be it a small smack someone smuggled in, or an entire meal from the kitchen, Lucas’ appetite was something to behold.

The worst part of it all? Maca had to go through all the side-effects. The prison food was… something. It wasn’t goopy gop or a single carrot like some of those prison shows tended to exaggerate. It was a meal – though not well-balanced. It could fill you up if you knew how to portion control yourself correctly, but with a baby on the way it was pretty difficult to do.

Some days Maca could eat a normal meal without having Lucas work up an appetite immediately after. Other days, she would have to curl up in her prison cell and learn to live with stomach pains because Lucas randomly decided to be hungry. When it came down to it, he was almost as bad as Curly when she was making a bunch of racket in the room!

That wasn’t even half of it, though. If Lucas wasn’t happy, he was definitely one to show it in his own way. There were days where Macarena was either living in bliss, easily angered, or would just randomly burst into tears over something minor.

Bed wasn’t comfy about it? She’d swear to herself. She dropped her sheets immediately after she washed them? Tears would burst out of her eyes and mess up her entire train of thought. Someone said hi to her? She practically bounced on her heels and would sing hello to a whimsical tune. Her moods would sometimes shift so often that the girls couldn’t help bullying her when they got the chance.

Babies were supposed to cause trouble after they were born, not before. Still, she had to admit, it definitely brought some light into this dreary prison. Some of the girls she never thought she could talk to would carry conversation with her for hours. They’d take turns brushing hair or putting on makeup (Maca doing _makeup_? A rarity), and would even catch her saying a couple of risque jokes here and there. It was like she was a completely different person at times!

When Macarena had told her parents in visitation that she was pregnant, she went into a lot of detail about her feelings and emotions. She mentioned to them that there were days that she didn’t feel like she was trapped in a prison at all, particularly because Lucas was there to share the moments with her. Naturally, there were girls in the prison that simply didn’t care about the idea of a baby and they would push Maca around until she was able to get out of the area. However, that wasn’t the majority of her day anymore. She killed a lot of them with kindness – or so she’d like to think.

Though it pained her to admit it at times, the emotional roller-coasters and hunger strikes Lucas caused weren’t always funny.

Whenever she was doing her typical chores in the prison, there were days where she found herself hunched over on the ground. There were a couple of times she was in the shower and blacked out – only to find herself back in her room with a bunch of girls hovering over her in concern or anger. It got so bad that one of the girls really did try to punch her stomach. Said her kid was a burden on all of them, or something.

There were also days where several people would interrogate her on the status of the baby’s father. “Was Simon really the father?” “Was she just pulling a stunt to look cool?” Because she often avoided the conversation with the lot of them, she was never quite sure how to answer. It definitely wouldn’t blow over well if she had told all the girls that she hadn’t had a DNA test yet.

At the end of the day, though, being pregnant was one of the best things in her entire life. Soon, she would be able to go to the maternity ward and take care of her child. She wouldn’t have to worry about inconveniencing anyone with her frail body, nor would she have to worry about her baby being taken away from her when she had to tend to other things.

A little less than nine months to go. Once she had this baby, maybe her life could go back to being as normal as it could be in the wild and wacky Cruz-del-Sur.


	3. “unexpected kindness.”

Saray wasn’t expecting to walk in to someone treating Casper so kindly – let alone _Macarena_ of all people.

In fact, she wasn’t _quite_ sure what she interrupted to begin with. Maca was running a brush through Casper’s hair, while the skittish girl sat in front of her and had her body curled up into a half-ball. Macarena wasn’t hurting her by any means, but she simply wasn’t… _used_ to this kind of kindness. She was used to her hair being tugged back and forth, not combed through with delicate fingers and brush teeth. The baby-carrier in that moment looked less like a huge bitch she hated and more like Casper’s older sister.

If Casper even _wanted_ one, anyway.

It was one of few moments where Maca’s gestures touched her heart. The frown on her face softened, and she just stood there. Watching. Eyes darting to the brush, to Maca’s smile, and then back to Casper’s timid one. It was as if Macarena was a completely normal girl, and all the cruelty was unjustified. At least, for the moment.

...Come to think of it, why _did_ she hate Macarena as much as she did?

The first _day_ she walked in, Saray spat in her face and berated her for all sorts of random reasons. Zulema said something rude about her, and she’d agree. Curly went to hang out with her, and her jealousy would rise in a flash. Saray never had anything to say to Maca directly, but she was the last person she wanted around her. Not to mention, all the baby talk wanted to make her barf. Why was she so _interested_ in a fetus that could easily find its death when she wandered around the jail? There just… She never understood the reason behind it.

You know what she also never understood? Zulema’s abuse towards Casper. Casper was generally nice to everyone, and never goes out of her way to bug anyone because she’s always so skittish. Zulema abused and taunted her whenever she was on a power trip or a mood swing, and it was just something Saray never agreed with. Everyone else, however, ate up that fear and the multitude of ways Casper barked when pushed to her limit. She was never sure what to say; Zulema was not only like a sister to her, but also kind of a boss. She felt like she would be disowned if she tried to disagree with her.

All this, combined with Zulema outing her to her family, made her wonder if she was hating the wrong person to begin with.

Macarena was her own headache, for sure, but the difference between her and Zulema was that she wasn’t feared. She was respected by (most) of the girls that spoke to her, and the fact that she hasn’t physically hurt Casper right now has shown her true colors. If anything, this looked like the most fun Casper was having and… wait, were the other girls playing with her, too?

How old was Casper? Was she a grown woman? Was she a teenager? Regardless, the way that the other girls came into the picture and started wrapping jumpsuits and towels like dresses around her elicited a smile Saray had _never_ seen in her life. Children. They were all acting like children.

But they were having _fun_ like children.

How did Macarena get into prison again? Saray couldn’t remember the details. Everyone at Cruz-del-Sur had their own story to tell, and would often keep it secret from everyone else due to the eternally circulating rumor mill.

Saray walked behind the bars and into the room with Maca and Casper. Everyone looked back with unreadable faces; it was kind of jarring.

Why did Saray do that? They were having so much fun, and now she might ruin it. She had to think of something—and _fast_.

She pat her pockets down until she found something. An eyebrow pencil. Oh my gosh, perfect. It probably wasn’t going to fit Casper’s skin tone in _any_ way, but it was the thought that counted right?

“I, uh...” She rubbed her shoulder, “I saw you guys playing dress up with the doll, here, a-and, uh...” She was _whispering_. Great. “I-I thought it might be fun to give Casper a full-on makeover.”

The girls looked at each other, then to Casper, then to Saray, and then…. _Cheered_?! Saray wasn’t expecting a group hug from the other three that were huddling around the ghost in the room!

“Casper, do you hear that?!” One of them pat her shoulder so hard, she winced. “You’re gonna look so pretty once we’re done with you!”

“Maybe we _should_ ask if we can try on some dresses.” Another said.

The third one immediately laughed and shook her head. “The guards aren’t going to allow that! We’d have to have our own little DIY session in here. Besides, orange is fucking ugly.”

Everyone clamored among themselves, while Saray turned to Maca. She had a large smile on her face, that was returned almost immediately.

“I hope you don’t mind me joining in?”

Maca shook her head. “Not at all. Pull up a chair next to me; maybe you can help me figure out what to do with Casper’s hair.”


	4. “voicemail.”

A voicemail? At this hour?

Simon wasn’t one to answer his phone when he was in the midst of work. Every time he heard his ringtone go off, he would press down on the volume button and go back to whatever he was focusing on. He was a higher playing chip in this company, after all; with everyone’s eyes on him because of the affair _and_ his work he had to make sure he didn’t slip up. Not even once.

When he was on the clock, he focused on nothing _but_ his work. His personality went from charming to robotic, and you would never see him move away from his computer unless he needed food or drink.

When he was off the clock? Entirely different story. Entirely different _person_. Everyone knew not to call him unless it was a dire emergency or else they ran the risk of him yelling.

But here’s the thing: he didn’t recognize the phone number calling him. The phone number called him three times, but it wasn’t registered to his contacts. He had _just_ enough space for one voicemail, but even then that wouldn’t make sense as to why they would decide to call him back _several times_.

Eventually, after the fifth or sixth call he yanked himself off of his workspace. There was _no_ way he was going to get work done like this. He had to sort this out.

“Continue discussing the project. I will be back shortly.” For once, during work, he didn’t sound as monotone as he normally did.

His eyes never once looked at the other coworkers that walked by, and were instead focused on the double-door exit out of the office. He stomped right out, hid behind a pillar, and then glared at his phone once again.

Who _would_ have his number at a time like this? He was sure that he blocked all the spam callers, telemarketers, and bad clientele that he had run into over the years. If someone changed numbers, they knew to text him to tell him so. Why was today any different?

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled; showing anger through this entire charade wouldn’t do him any good. If anything it would make it worse. He would just have to approach it differently. What if it was a stranger who accidentally dialed the wrong number? They left a voicemail, after all. It would be rude to ignore it and accuse the caller of something frivolous.

He dialed the number, typed in the passcode, and put the phone to his ear. Right, he had to skip five of them because they were unread. Hit the delete number on about 20 of them because they were saved. Why was he so messy with this box? He could be doing so much better.

A minute or two more passed and he finally got to the message he wanted to hear in the first place: “You have one new voice message.”

He expected a bot caller telling him something in an automated message. What he did _not_ expect was to hear the meek voice of the woman he threw under the bus what seemed like _forever_ ago.

“ _Hola_ , Simon.” He had a lump in his throat. “It’s me, Macarena.”

His heart skipped a beat, and not in the _cheesy_ romantic way either.

“You probably never want to hear from me again, and that’s fine. I understand.” Her voice was a _lot_ softer. Raspier, but gentler than before. “However, there is some important news I wish to share with you and hope that I could ask for a couple of moments of your time.”

Whatever could this be? Begging for bail money? No, he would delete the message the moment he heard that request.

“Simon, ah… I’m pregnant. Dr. Sandoval in the prison has been kind enough to let me know that it’s a young boy.”

His phone slipped out of his hand and dropped face-first against the floor. He _refused_ to hear anymore after that.

Macarena? Pregnant? No way. That couldn’t have happened. That entire affair with her couldn’t have lead to a _baby_ , they barely had any sex! Well, _unprotected_ sex. This was entirely impossible. She was lying to him.

But then again… she was at an all-women prison, wasn’t she? The guards wouldn’t _dare_ touch any of the girls there, even if they were as flirtatious as some of them were rumored to be. How _else_ would she be able to get pregnant if there were cameras all over the place?

Furthermore, how far in was she and how much did she tell people? Did she tell her parents? Great, if she _did_ that means he would have to start finding and avoiding their phone calls, too. The court case would fall out of his control if he wasn’t careful, and he _really_ didn’t want his wife to find out about their little secrets to begin with.

Simon slid against the pole and fell to his knees. As much as he would like to ignore the fact that he ever received the message, he knew that wouldn’t be possible. He was too popular. Too well-known. If someone heard that the girl the scandal happened with tried to get back into contact with him, he’d never hear the end of it.

He tucked his face in his knees and sat there for awhile. His coworkers would be fine. He just… needed some alone time. This was too much information at once for him.


	5. “paranoia”

Eating food around large groups of inmates? Check. Drinks thrown out the moment she stepped away? Check. Never moving around the prison by herself?

Well, for once she was thankful Casper was here, so check.

Ever since Anabel threatened to shove that abortion pill down her throat, Macarena was never not hyper aware of her surroundings. She and Curly had issues with one another, but she recently begged her to peek around the hallway before going out on her own. She made sure that Casper stood behind her, rather than on her side – not to emulate Zulema by any means, but to ensure she wasn’t attacked from behind. She showered late at night or early in the morning. If she saw Anabel in her direction, she avoided her at all costs.

Ugh, she should’ve just taken it and said nothing but thank yous. Or paid her back like she wanted. Why did she get so territorial over Lucas? She caused a problem with a person she knew she was going to regret.

What’s more, is now she was sure she was on her own from here on out – save two people. She wouldn’t dare tell Zulema what happened. Zulema might have let her “borrow” Casper out of goodwill, but that didn’t mean she trusted her entirely. Not only that, but what if Casper is snitching on her when she sends her away? Everything was a threat to her.

She flipped her sheets over three times, went through her clothes another two times, and was just about to whip around and grab her towels when she saw Casper and … Tere?

Macarena yelped at the top of her lungs.

“Jesus _christ_ , don’t come up behind me like that?” Casper had her towels. She snatched them away, “Wh-what do you want?”

Casper looked down at the ground. “Um, w-well… Tere wanted to talk to you. She said it was very important.”

“Oi, _nina_ , of course it’s important!” She was high. Higher than a kite. “Maca Maraca, how are ya? Fancy a—”

“No, no, I don’t want drugs. I don’t even know how you got them in.” She took several steps back, “Why are you even here?”

“You’re talk of the town, _mejora_.” Tere giggled, “Little birdie told me Anabel was pissed at you for some reason or another. She wants you dead. Nipples off and all.”

Nipples… off—? Wait, first of all, how did she even know all of this. Was Casper truly snitching on her, or was this just out of pure coincidence?

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! I’m here for a reason,” She shook her head, “Zulema gave you her puppet, didn’t she?”

“She’s not a puppet, but yes.” Maca was getting tired of correcting people.

“Okay, so hear me out: we utilize this to your advantage, missy. Have you told Zulema about pissing off Anabel?”

“Well, no.” But she might have heard about it already.

“Alright, so here’s the thing. We know you’re going to get your ass handed to you, _cabrona_. That’s just the way Anabel works.” Tere snorted, “She’ll grind you up into dust if you let her; don’t think that she won’t find a way to terrorize you.”

“Great, yes, I know-- I’m probably going to be killed, could you just get to the point?!”

“She’ll terrorize you regardless of having Casper near you or not, soooo why not let Casper be the snitch to Zulema?”

Let Casper be what to who now? Her jaw dropped.

“Don’t give me that look, it’s a good idea!” Tere reached into her pocket for a blunt, to which Maca quickly smacked her shoulder. Not in here! “The moment Anabel and her groupies come and snatch you away, you’re going to be in real danger. They won’t hurt Casper, though; they know she’s useless and it would only piss Zulema off.”

Silence.

“N-no offense, of course.”

“Okay, but what if this doesn’t work and Zulema doesn’t want to help me?”

“She will.”

Tere was surprisingly confident about this. Why? She never really spoke with Macarena; at the most, the two would only exchange glances and nods when they crossed paths. It didn’t make any sense.

Casper finally added to the discussion. “Z-Zulema would help. If any of the other girls hurt you, it would be all over for the inmates in a second.”

Now Casper was agreeing to this? Then again, when she thought about it the idea wasn’t so bad. It would definitely take some of the burden and anxiety off of her. She was getting tired of trudging around the prison like a zombie; having extra help would do her and Lucas’ health some good for sure.

Yeah… it was all for Lucas in the long run.

“Alright, alright! We’ll do it, just leave me alone,” She groaned, “This is the only day I get to have to myself; we’ll talk about this more in a couple of minutes, just leave me alone for now.”


	6. “i smell a rat.”

“So, it was you who ratted me out.” Ismael snarled, his hands pressed Macarena into the nearest wall. “I should’ve known.”

When Ismael Valbuena caught wind that Miranda called for investigation upon the entirety of the prison after an inmate was seen high off her ass, he blew a gasket going home. Stupid women, the lot of them; they all knew for a damn fact that they had to hide and smuggle away any and all drugs that came into their possession. Discretion was key; how they did it, though, was entirely on them as long as he wasn’t held responsible in any way.

And yet… yet someone knew. Someone knew, someone found out, and – judging by all the clues he lined up – it had to be Macarena.

How quaint. She was probably on her last strike here anyway.

Maca did try to break out, but his grip was unrelenting. It hurt to even try to twist her wrist.

“Miranda looked through all the lockers, you know.” Maca remembered the numerous officers raiding each and every room. “Every. Last. One. She invaded our privacy, because one of you had them in your possession. And then I find you sneaking around here like the filthy rat your kind are.”

“I-I’m really not following...”

“Cut the bullshit.” He slammed her against the cell. “I know you’re trying to get some of us in trouble. You’re trying to get us kicked out!”

He didn’t know this, but Macarena… genuinely didn’t know the reason for this interrogation. This was the first time that she had heard about the sudden raids and fervent frisking to be concerning drugs. She had a hunch, but with all the chaos surrounding Cruz-del-Sur she assumed it was because more critical information had hit the news or something. Not because the authorities were trying to find a drug trafficker.

Maca tried to look at him from her field of view, but it was hard to see with her hair in the way. She wasn’t sure what words could comfort him, and opted for silence instead.

“Miranda always gives you bullshitters too many chances, but I’m not. In fact,” His free hand fumbled about until he grabbed a gun from his compartment, cocked it, and put it towards her head. “You don’t get a _choice_ in what I’m about to tell you.”

Ismael placed the barrel against her head, and – almost instantly – did she find tears streaming down her cheeks. Her breath grew ragged, goosebumps pricked her skin, and she could only choke out quiet nos. The gun stirred thoughts she had already pushed into the far corners of her mind. The forest. All she could recall was the forest again.

“Here’s the thing, Maca.” He sneered into her ear. “You come with me, and you go to Miranda and tell her you’re the one who smuggled drugs in. I don’t know how, nor do I care. All I know is that you have to be the one to do it.”

No backtalk? Good. This made his job easier.

“If you decide not to, I’ll personally ask for their permission to take you somewhere far away and take you out myself.”

She whimpered and sniffled. Another crybaby – just like all the rest. All the inmates thought they were hot shit until someone pulled a gun or knife on them. They were all cowards after that.

“Well? What will it be, Maca?” The barrel jabbed her head. “Otherwise, I’ll blow your brains out here and now.”

“Maca won’t be the one in trouble here, Valbuena. Step aside.”

Who was that, an officer? No. There were only two or three female officers on the premises and none of them would be working in this area. They should all be on visitation duty right now.

So why did that voice sting harder than usual?

Ismael jerked his head back and his face paled. The gun fell to the ground, and Maca could feel his grip loosening. If only a little bit.

Zulema Zahir. The prisoner everyone knew not to fuck with.

But why was she here? She didn’t have friends. From what he heard only a couple of people genuinely liked her; the rest tend to stay away because of her affiliations with the so-called Egyptian.

He swallowed, and pulled away.

“Zulema.”

Zulema was near the hallway at one point and face to face with him in another. “Going into formalities now? Weren’t you in the middle of calling us all cowardly bitches?” She shrugged, “Don’t think I didn’t hear everything.”

How was she able to slide by undetected? She was a slippery one, for sure.

“Do me a favor, Valbuena. Drop the gun, let her go, and I won’t tell everyone here that you threatened an inmate.” She placed a hand on gun itself. “Don’t, and you’ll suffer. What’s it going to be?”

He had to admit, Zulema wasn’t like Maca over here; if he were to get into a fight with her, she would be able to handle her own. Not only that, but Maca would explain the entire situation to his colleagues, too. It’s not worth it. They’d find out his misdeeds too easily.

Ismael slipped the gun back into his pouch and stared long and hard at the woman before trudging off. Who does she think she is, getting in the way of his plans like this?

Furthermore, when did those two become friends? As far as he knew, they were sworn enemies. Did something change while he was laying low for the past few weeks?

Well, whatever. He’d ask his “sources,” later. For now, he needed to get out of here. Lingering any longer would’ve ruined everything for him then and there.

He’d get his revenge soon. He’d get it even if it killed him.


	7. “apologies.”

“You know. You’re not a deplorable bitch after all.”

Maca nearly spit out her food; who the hell—?! She noticed the girls take their trays and back away to a completely different table. She looked at where they were sitting, then looked behind her. The girls were staring straight ahead. She did the same, and her eyes met the those belonging to Fabio. As slack as he was, he was practically towering over her.

Yikes. Could he have picked a _better_ time? This was one of the few days she felt like socializing. She was in the middle of a pleasant and entertaining conversation with the others and—

Wait.

Hang on.

_Fabio_? Like, the officer?

Maca set her fork and knife to the side and continued to stare at him. His expression was a lot softer than normal. What’s the occasion?

“Sorry, too blunt?” A wry smirk crossed his face, “Mind if I, uh, sit down?”

She blinked, “N-no. No, go ahead.”

He sat across from her and leaned over the table with one arm against one of his relaxed legs. He was like a kid – a side of him that she didn’t think she’d ever see in her life. Really, why was he here?

“Sorry for interrupting.” His eyes darted to the food, then back to her. “I just have something to tell you. I feel like if I don’t tell you now, I won’t ever get the chance again.”

Cryptic, but okay. The last time he approached her was because she saved him in the forest and he had intel on Curly.

“Thank you,” he paused, “you know, for – uh – for saving my life.”

Didn’t he thank her before? What was so special now?

“I will admit. Being in this prison every day really dampens my mood – as I’m sure it does for everyone, but...” He sighed, “The worst part, is that every girl I see come in here I automatically think they’ve done something unjustifiable. I realize now that this isn’t the case.”

Fabio paused, though it wasn’t as graceful as it could be. He was clearly struggling to find words to say, or maybe he’s worried about whether he should’ve said anything at all?

“Maca. Why were you arrested again?”

“I was, ah… the father of this child wanted to plot against his company, and he denied any part of it.” It was still a bitter memory, she had to admit, but every passing day it has dulled just a little.

“I see.” He sighed.

“Relatively minor compared to some of my friends in here.”

That made him laugh. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Your family’s dedicated to getting you out of here. You must be well-loved.” He smiled. “Anyway. I hope you will forgive me for casting judgment on you before you even had a say. I hope I haven’t caused you too much trouble.”

He hadn’t. She shook her head.

“Well. I’ll be off, then.” He hopped off the seat and took a couple of steps back. “Take care, Maca. Don’t hesitate to let us know if any of the inmates are bothering you.”

When he finally disappeared, Maca looked down at her food. How weird. Some of the officers she spoke to weren’t all bad; I’m sure most of them are more concerned about the mass murderers and thieves in here than little ol’ her, but… any girl in this prison was considered a threat.

Then again, Fabio _never_ liked her. Castillo was able to joke around with her, sure, but not Fabio. He took his job too seriously. He felt like someone was going to come back and attack him. She didn’t blame him, though; Cruz-del-Sur had a fair share of tension around it.

Well, she wouldn’t think too hard about his words right now. If she did, Fabio might turn around and ask her if what he said was weird or uncomfortable. She really didn’t need the additional confrontation when she was trying to eat.

Maca waved her little girl group of the day over to finish the discussion they were having while eating. She had to be honest with herself, anyway; she knew they wouldn’t ever _stop_ bothering her about it if she didn’t talk about what Fabio said then and there.


End file.
